Flesh of the Living
by Wuzzle98
Summary: A story taking place within the Walking Dead universe. Focused around original characters Violet and Catherine, a police officer and med student who've been dating steadily for the past year and a half. Taking place at the start of the initial outbreak


Catherine groaned as she woke, cursing the alarm that had disrupted her deep sleep. She fumbled on her beside table for her phone, unable to find it in her state of half-concsciousness. A hand reached past her, easily scooping the phone up and silencing it, before retreating and resting on Catherine's bare waist. She rolled over, her heavy eyelids opening up to the sight of Violet laying beside her.  
"G'morning" Catherine grumbled, closing her eyes again, burying herself into Violet's chest.  
"Good morning, babe" Violet replied, leaning in to kiss Catherine's neck, "come on, you've got to get ready, and so do I".  
"No!" Catherine protested, pulling the blankets over her head, "I don't want to go".  
Violet laughed, yanking the blankets off of Catherine playfully, "Get up, sleepyhead, you've got a surgery to watch".  
Catherine glared at Violet, sitting up with a huff. She slapped Violet's hand off and slid out of the bed, traipsing into the bathroom. Violet bit her lip, her eyes scanning Catherine's naked form, stopping only as the bathroom door slammed shut. She pulled herself reluctantly from her bed, beginning to pull her uniform on as she heard the shower turn on.  
Violet looked up from her cereal bowl as she heard Catherine come into the kitchen. She smiled at her disgruntled girlfriend, pushing a plate of toast over to her as she sat down.  
"Ready to see some guy get his heart cut out of his chest?" she grinned, talking through a mouthful of cereal.  
"Oh, shut up Vi" Catherine snapped, "it's really not that simple. It's actually not that simple, it's quite a delicate procedure".  
Violet rolled her eyes, "I know, silly. I'm just messing around."  
Catherine stopped halfway through a bite of toast, her eyes widening as she realised she'd missed the joke, "oh".  
Violet snickered, reaching forward to take a hold of Catherine's hand, "that nervous, huh?".  
Catherine nodded, "yeah, just. This is the first major surgery I've ever seen. I mean, I've watched videos online and I've been in theatre during amputations and stuff but, just… what if I pass out?".  
Violet leaned forwards, pressing her lips to her girlfriend's worried frown, feeling her stress dissipate with the warmth of her kiss. She gave Catherine's bottom lip a gentle nip before sitting back, giving her a comforting smile.  
"It'll be okay, Cat" she soothed, getting up to put her bowl in the sink, "As you said, you've seen this before. Besides, you've got a strong stomach, and you're far from a wuss. You'll be fine".  
Catherine swallowed, nodding a little, taking determined bites from her toast. She finished her piece, standing absent-mindedly to place her plate in the sink, coming to stand next to Violet. Violet slung her arms around Catherine's waist, pulling the thin girl against her, her hands coming to rest on her arse.  
"How about" Violet began, "after I get off work and you finish at the hospital, we go out for dinner? To celebrate your first major surgery? And I'm supposed to be going on a small time drug bust, so we can celebrate that too. We could go to that new place in town. The Greek one? How's that sound?".  
Catherine smiled, reaching up to twist her fingers in Violet's hair, pulling her head down so that their lips met. They shared a long kiss, Violet's fingers tightening in Catherine's hair, Catherine's hand sliding down Violet's thigh, hoisting her leg up-

"Hey hey!" Violet cut in, pushing Catherine away with a laugh, "the chance for this was earlier, but you wanted a shower. You can't do this to me now, I'll be late!"  
Catherine sighed, untangling her hands from Violet's shirt, "fine".  
"Good" Violet gave Catherine's arse a light slap, "now let's get going, today's a big day".  
The two women collected their things, locking up their small one-bedroom flat before a fleeting kiss as they went their separate ways.

Catherine pulled up to Thomas Jefferson University Hospital an hour before the heart surgery was due to start. She looked at her watch as she shut off her car and groaned. She began to rifle through her bag, searching for the book she had bought last time she had been this early, _Sense and Sensibility_ , but she couldn't find it anywhere. Just as she was about to start digging under the backseat, she remembered where it was. On her bedside table.  
"Fuck" she hissed, slumping back in her seat. An hour to kill, and her phone on only 42%, thanks to a faulty charge cable that she'd bought on eBay. Deciding that buying a coffee and sitting in the cafeteria was better than waiting in her car, Catherine climbed out of her crapbox and headed into the hospital.  
As soon as she had moved past the administration office, Catherine noticed something different in the atmosphere of the hospital. Last time she'd been in, some three days beforehand, the place had seemed as it normally was, relaxed, calm, organised, for a hospital. Today it felt tense. People were rushing around, there were beds out in hallways, people on them, nurses stood outside of doors, talking to doctors, all of their faces drawn, concerned, families sat huddled, hands clasped. Catherine walked up to the closest pair of nurses, pulling out her lanyard with her medical student I.D.  
"What's going on?" she asked, gesturing to the thinly veiled chaos around her.  
"It's that flu that's going around" one of the nurses, a pretty blonde, responded.  
"Flu?"  
"How long has it been since you've been here?" the other nurse interjected, an older woman.  
"About three days" Catherine responded.  
"Ah, well, the initial outbreak was about two days ago".  
Catherine was taken aback, "two days? That's a quick outbreak".  
The nurses nodded, the blonde spoke again, "it started out slow. Monday night had maybe two cases. Severe, they'd started having symptoms four or five days before they were admitted here. Came in with high temps and severe joint and eye pain. Since coming in have began to vomit. Then, we saw maybe another five or six admissions on Tuesday morning, more by the evening, then a huge influx on Wednesday."  
"Jesus" Catherine muttered, looking at the woman laying on the hospital bed closest to her, her eyes closed, her chest moving irregularly, laboriously, "how come I haven't heard about this before?".  
"It isn't on the news" the older woman replied, "doctors don't want to scare people, especially when we don't know how it's being transmitted. But, with the rate it's going, I say it will only be another day or two before the media shows up. Virus like this doesn't stay quiet for long. And it shouldn't. People need to know".  
Catherine nodded, looking again at the sick woman in the hall, "any fatalities yet?".  
"None so far. Though, looking at the deterioration of our primary admissions, I wouldn't say there's too long until they go."  
"Why aren't you doing anything?" Catherine asked, anger rising at the indifference in the older nurse's response.  
"We're doing what we can" she replied, calm despite the accusation in Catherine's tone, "this is a completely new strain of flu. So far it's mostly immune to what we have. Though some of our medicine can combat the nausea and the pain, we haven't found anything that's been able to stop the fever. Whatever we give our patients is burned off within the period of an hour or two. I'm afraid many people will die before we're able to learn much about this new flu".  
The nurse ended her sentence with a solemn tone, her eyes meeting Catherine's before moving to the woman in the hallway. She sighed, moving towards the feeble lady, grabbing her bed and pushing her down the hallway. Catherine thanked the blonde nurse, wished her luck, and began to walk towards the cafeteria.  
Catherine sat down at an empty table, a steaming coffee in her hand. She took a sip of her cappuccino, swearing as it burnt her tongue, before pulling out her phone. She opened up Facebook, scrolling through her newsfeed when she came across an article from the _Philadelphia Inquirer_. Her interest peaked, she clicked on it and began to read: 

_Three Killed in Brutal Drug Fuelled Attack_

 _In the early hours of Tuesday, 17_ _th_ _of June, screams could be heard on the streets of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania.  
_ _Two men and a woman were found dead in their home as the result of a brutal assault, following a call to police made by neighbours after hearing screaming and shouting coming from the house next door.  
"It sounded horrible" one neighbour, who wishes to remain anonymous, said, "you could just hear pleading, and just.. screaming. It sounded like a horror movie, right next to my own house".  
Police arrived to find three bodies, all three of which had deep wounds to their heads, which, according to on-scene police estimations, were created by a sharp edge manual weapon.  
The attack is thought to be, at this moment, drug-fuelled or at least drug-related, judging by both the brutality of the assault, and the apparent ability of the killer to overpower and dispatch manually three adult individuals.  
"Truly awful when these sorts of crimes occur" police Chief Raymond commented on the crime scene, "we'll do all we can to get this maniac off the streets".  
The couple who initially notified police of the attack are at this point witnesses to the crime, having seen a man running from the crime scene, before leaving in a car, shortly after the screams stopped.  
Though at this time the suspect remains unidentified, the victims have been identified as Regina and Timothy Oswald, the home-owners and Arnold Oswald, brother of the home-owner.  
The suspect was seen leaving in a green car, thought to be an off-roader model. If anyone has information that could help in identifying or apprehending the suspect, they should call…_

Catherine closed the article, setting her phone down, her stomach twisting. _How could someone do that?_ She thought, draining the last of her coffee from the styrofoam cup. She stood, shaking her head as she tossed her cup away before leaving the cafeteria in the direction of the cardiology theatre.

Catherine arrived outside theatre just as the patient was being welcomed and consulted. She nodded to the patient, a middle-aged man with his arm slung over a woman's shoulders, before pulling her long hair back into a ponytail and walking into the scrub room. She got herself ready, trying to swallow back her nerves as she dressed down to get into her scrubs. As Catherine placed her clothes and shoes into one of the few remaining empty lockers, another medical student stepped out of the change area. She acknowledged him with a smile, beginning to adjust her face mask.  
"Hey" he said, smiling at her as he put away his own clothes.  
"Hi" Catherine replied, keeping her head down, moving over to the door to the theatre, watching as the patient was wheeled in, and the nurses began to speak to him.  
"I'm Trevor" the man said, moving up to join Catherine at the door, fixing his own face mask. She could see him look her up and down out of the corner of her eye, "first major surgery?".  
Catherine nodded, wringing her hands, watching as the patient leaned his head forwards, and the general anesthesia was injected into the nape of his neck.  
"Wait..." Catherine said quietly, watching the nurses prepare, "Why is the patient being strapped down?".  
"The guy has mild tourette's" Trevor replied, "Apparently he has a tic where he flicks his arms".  
Trevor demonstrated flamboyantly, looking over at Catherine with a wide grin. She answered with a thin-lipped smile, her nerves far too much to appreciate the humour.  
"Sorry" Trevor grimaced, rubbing his wrists anxiously, "the quality of my comedy degrades when I get nervous. Normally I'm hilarious."  
Catherine gave him a more genuine smile, "It's alright" she said, as the pair walked into the operating room, "I'm really nervous too".  
The pair washed up, putting on their gloves before moving to the operating table.  
Catherine watched eagerly, handing the surgeon tools as he asked, moving out of the way as Trevor assisted with the first incision.  
"Alright" announced the surgeon, leaning back from the patient, rib re-tractors wedged into his chest, "Catherine, I need you to pull open the chest cavity. I'll tell you when to lock the re-tractors".  
Catherine sucked in a deep breath, nodding to the surgeon before stepping forwards, grabbing hold of the re-tractors, gingerly prying them open. She shuddered as she felt the force of the bone fight her, gratefully locking the tool open when the surgeon instructed her to, stepping back to allow him through.  
The rest of the surgery went smoothly, a functioning artery grafted onto the patient's heart to bypass the blocked one. Soon the procedure was complete, the surgeon tying off the neat sutures and cutting the string, moving away to allow the nurses to sterilize and dress the sutures. The patient's heart restarted and the surgeon moved to speak with Catherine and Trevor. The heart-lung bypass machine was turned off, and immediately the heart-monitor began alarming rapidly.  
"What's going on?" Trevor asked, speaking over Catherine.  
"He's having a heart attack" the surgeon explained, rushing over to the patient, who had begun to twitch rapidly, "the blood mustn't be flowing to his heart properly".  
The heart monitor continued to beep incessantly, its noise matching the twitching of the still-unconscious patient, before shifting into a continuous hum as the patient's heart beat flat-lined. Catherine moved closer, watching the nurses' desperate attempts to revive the man, counting 20 minutes before they put the defibrillator away, deciding to call it. They recorded the time of death and Trevor moved forwards, under the surgeon's instruction, to remove the breathing tubes from the dead man's throat.  
"Hey!" he called suddenly, leaning towards the man's face, "he's opening his eyes! He's alive!".  
The nurses rushed forwards, staring incredulously at the flat-lined monitor and at the man, who appeared to be stirring on the operating table. Catherine watched from the back of the room as the medical staff began to comfort the man, undoing one of the restraints on his wrists-  
A blood-curdling shriek broke the air and the nurses and surgeon sell into stunned silence, stumbling back to reveal Trevor holding his wrist, blood seeping through his fingers, eyes wide with fear as he stared at the man on the table, free hand reaching for Trevor, blood smeared over his lips and covering his bared teeth.  
Catherine choked down vomit, gagging as pieces of Trevor's flesh flapped with the patient's movement, wedged between his teeth. She backed up as the patient was strapped back down, now thrashing violently against the restraints, and was rushed to the ICU. In the commotion, she took her chance to leave. She bade the surgeon a hurried goodbye, trying to avoid looking at Trevor as he strode past her, but she wasn't able to avoid seeing the wound on his arm, the deep bite on his wrist that spurted blood, viscous and vibrant over his fingers and onto the bandage he was wrapping like a tourniquet above it. She burst into the scrub room, dressing in a flurry, leaving her scrubs disheveled on the ground, quickly making her way to her car, desperate to leave the day's events behind her.

Catherine sat at the restaurant table, glancing anxiously at the clock over the bar, tapping her foot impatiently. She looked over at the front of the restaurant when she heard the door open, a smile breaking onto her face as Violet came striding in, their eyes meeting. Violet strode over, giving Catherine a gentle kiss before dropping herself into the seat across the table, leaning forward to take Catherine's olive yellow hand in her dark hand, clasping them together.  
"How'd the surgery go?"  
Catherine sighed, dropping her head into her hand, dark hair spilling over the table.  
"Cat?" Violet probed, eyebrows furrowed in concern.  
"Horrible" came Catherine's hoarse reply. Her chocolate brown eyes found Violet's grey, which implored her to go on. Catherine sighed again, "the guy died".  
Violet's face fell, and she moved to clasp Catherine's small hand in her own large hands.  
"It's okay" she soothed, "it's not your-"  
"That isn't all" Catherine interrupted.  
"Then why did you stop…?"  
Catherine sighed, feeling evermore like an angsty teenager, "he died… And he came back".  
Violet was stumped for a second. She opened her mouth to speak, but then stopped, confused. She began again, hesitantly, "but… Isn't that a good thing?"  
Catherine shook her head, keeping her gaze down as their waitress came over, giving them their food, it was only once the waitress had retreated out of earshot that she continued, "He was dead for over twenty minutes, and he came back. He came back, and the heart-rate monitor was still flat lining. He had no heart-beat. But his eyes were open. He was moving!".  
Violet stared, her fork hovering halfway between her plate and her mouth.  
"And he bit the other med-student, Trevor. Took an entire chunk out of his arm".  
Violet gagged, putting her fork down, covering her mouth before swallowing, screwing her face up. "That's fucking disgusting" she spat, "I really hate biting".  
Catherine stared down at the food on her plate, pushing it around with her fork.  
"I had no idea what to do" her voice was small, unsure, "I didn't even go to help the nurses, or Trevor…" she put her head in her hands, pulling at her hair in frustration, "I just completely froze up. I'm useless".  
"Hey, hey" Violet interjected, squeezing Catherine's hand reassuringly, "you're not useless. That situation was beyond fucked up. You're not expected to know how to deal with it. Besides, it's over now. Just fill out the paperwork tomorrow and it'll all be behind you".  
Catherine looked up at her girlfriend, feeling better as her warm smile calmed her. She nodded.  
"Yeah, you're right. Give it a couple of days, hopefully I'll forget about it".  
The two then dissolved into normal conversation, eating their dinner, smiling and laughing with the rest of the restaurant's patrons, ready to move on with their week.


End file.
